Solar Evolutions
by vodka straight
Summary: But he didn't talk about the hamster. He just cried. He just talked about miracles, which Delia had thought she knew, but now didn't think she did." Andy's public apology in "The Last of Summer", through his ten year old daughter.


Solar Evolutions  
  
  
  
She watched the pavement move, but didn't think about her legs walking over it. She saw the auditorium door, and it didn't matter nearly as much as she thought it should.   
  
She felt a large hand grab her tiny one and envelope it. She looked up.   
  
Dad hadn't looked down. But the hand that was usually so strong, it squeezed hers, squeezed it tight. So tight. But it shook the way hers did when she woke up late on a Saturday and ate nothing but pixie sticks; when she had nothing else to think about but the sun coming through the window and hitting the glass so that she couldn't see the eyes of the people on TV.  
  
She couldn't see his, either. Not from down here. Not from way down here.   
  
But his hand held tight. And shook. And the doors opened.  
  
Amy was pretty. Even prettier than normal. She was shiny and shivering, and her breath was teasing the microphone like a kiss in a movie that never comes. Delia thought that Amy must be able to see Dad's eyes, because she was looking right at him. She felt the hand that held hers spasm, and she didn't want him to let go.  
  
All he had to do was talk about the hamster. That was easy. Easy to understand. Everyone could understand, and then people could go back to having sleepovers and nights out to dinner with everybody else that was happy. Delia was tired of being alone with sad people. Not because it was saddening, but because she was afraid that she wasn't helping.   
  
She saw Ephram on the bleachers. He looked like he always looked; like he was watching a glass full of something that would stain fall off the edge of a table.   
  
Not afraid. Just aware.   
  
Dad walked her to Ephram, and he took her and rubbed her arm up and down, as though he thought she might be cold. She didn't know why he was so scared. It was just a story. Only just a little story and then everyone could go and be happy again, because Delia had always been taught that people were smart; people understood.   
  
The shivering black mirage of Amy turned and sat, and Delia could feel Ephram's eyes on Amy for only a moment more. Then on Dad. Everything in the world was right on him.   
  
But he didn't talk about the hamster. He just cried. He just talked about miracles, which Delia had thought she knew, but now didn't think she did. He talked about optimism, a big word that had always hit Delia as some kind of prank. He talked about other things, but she didn't really listen. But she saw the crying. He didn't look like Dad.   
  
When he was done, Dad looked over at Amy, and she looked back with mean, hard eyes that were locked tight with some secret wrong and could never go right.   
  
She looked at Delia's Dad with harmed, blunt eyes, and Delia thought she was so ugly. Oh, she was so ugly and so pathetic because she couldn't understand a story. It was just a story! It's so easy to understand.   
  
Dad was crying and nobody was doing anything, and when she looked up to Ephram, he was crying too, and so she started to cry a little.   
  
Somebody do something. Do *something*.   
  
But nobody did. Dad cried, and then he begged forgiveness for wanting to save somebody who needed saving, and then he stepped down.   
  
Delia stood up before he got to her, and she wanted to run away, but she didn't. She wanted to run and scream, but instead her body wanted to hug him until he stopped being so *sad*.   
  
She was sure Ephram would not come with them. He hadn't come in with them. He wouldn't leave with them. But he did. He stood up, and he put his hand on Delia's back and then she hugged Dad around the waist, and Ephraim walked behind her, the way he always did, and Dad's eyes were like the TV with a glare. She couldn't see inside. She could usually. She could before. The sun had shifted, she thought.   
  
The sun moves, sometimes.   
  
But so could you.  
  
When they reached the car Ephram turned to Dad quickly and hugged him. Delia started to cry again, and they got into the car. Dad sat down in the drivers seat, and then he got out of the car and switched with Ephram without saying a word. Ephram drove all the way home, and if Delia closed her eyes she could pretend that they weren't moving at all.   
  
By the time they were home, the sun was down completely.   
  
Tomorrow it would be up again. On the other side of the sky.  
  
THE END 


End file.
